


Robert Lemme Smash

by volpeanon



Category: Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I really don't know what to say other than that it's a lot of fucking, M/M, Making appearances, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Alex Mercer (Prototype), Trans Robert Cross, alltimes diddling, and, but i have to admit to there being a lot of versatility happening here lmao, cross is still a bottom bitch in my heart, i really don't know enough terms to tag this properly, so yeah the boys swip swap and have fun, sometimes tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volpeanon/pseuds/volpeanon
Summary: Bunch of short n sweet pieces of a virus man and his big beautiful husband fucking the living daylights out of each other.I have never really written smut seriously so, naturally, I decided to put my fumbling first attempts up for public scrutiny.
Relationships: Robert Cross/Alex Mercer
Comments: 35
Kudos: 65





	1. Inadvisable Activities For Behind Enemy Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Alex sneaks into Red Crown to bend his favourite Blackwatch captain over a desk.

"You're  _ kidding _ me-!" Cross is cut off by Alex's lips and the efficient way he trips him backwards through the doorway, closing it behind them. Cross hits the wall, and Alex’s body ripples as his disguise melts away and his hands fumble with Cross's kevlar, ripping the zip open so hard he could burst it, shoving it aside to pull up the vest beneath. Cross manages to pull away from Alex's mouth, but forgets almost entirely what he was about to say when Alex kisses down his neck, hands running up his chest, and starts rocking his hips against him. "How the hell did you get past the detectors-"

"I was smart, you want me to write you a report?" Alex retorts impatiently as he curls a hand in Cross's hair, gently but firmly tilting his head, baring his throat.

"I'd like to make sure nothing  _ else _ can get into headquarters, yeah- Alex- you can't just come in here, this is fucking dangerous-" he's cut off by Alex's hand, deftly flicking open his belt and sliding down the front of his pants. Alex gives a quiet, amused huff against his throat.

"Maybe I like it that way. You afraid everyone's gonna hear you?"

_ Kind of, yeah _ . He bites his lip as Alex takes him in hand, fingertips light and teasing as they slide up and down his shaft. Alex chuckles, sending vibrations through Cross like the rumble of heavy artillery, his lips insistent, his body pressing. Cross can feel, under the soft parts of Alex's human exterior, the rock-solid core of inhuman strength. "I'm fucking  _ afraid _ of getting incinerated for collusion!" Cross tries, and fails, to keep his voice steady, but his hands are gripping Alex's arms tight and his hips are moving and Alex is far, far too good at doing this to him. " _ Alex _ -"

"I thought calculated risks were your thing?" Alex whispers in his ear, grinding his erection against Cross's thigh.

"Nothing about this is calculated-"

Alex squeezes him, making him arch and let out an altogether contrary noise to his protestations. He can feel the smirk on Alex's lips.

"You're right about that...  _ Fine _ ." he pulls away from Cross suddenly - Cross could honestly kick himself for how disappointed he is - and goes over to the desk, which is the only robust piece of furniture in the tiny room that also houses a cot bed, a folding chair, and a stain on the floor from when Cross fell asleep with a coffee in his lap about five minutes before Alex went barrelling across outside and setting off all the alarms. Alex lifts the desk like it's a cardboard box and jams it against the door. "There. No one's coming in."

"Yeah, great, now fix the walls, you can hear a pin drop through them."

"Then I  _ guess _ ," Alex prowls back over, cocking his head slightly and smirking "You'll just have to be quiet. Or am I too much for you?" he's pressing Cross back against the wall again and that smirk is oozing with the fact he knows Cross is letting him. He doesn't wait for an answer, smothering whatever retort might come in a slow, open-mouthed, breathless kiss, the kind that always turns 'later, Mercer, I'm busy' into 'busy can wait' . He can feel, inch by inch, Cross's body relaxing into it, and slides a hand back down his pants to give the increasingly evident bulge there a little attention. Cross makes a noise between a moan and a sigh - silence would be too much to ask for, but he's happy with that. The noises are half the fun.

Just as he's lulled the worst of the tension out of Cross's body, his smirk comes back. He grabs him by his harness, hoists him up, and practically throws him to the desk. As Cross is still hissing "Jesus  _ Christ _ , Mercer" as he grabs his hips and spins him round, sliding a hand up his back to take hold of the back of his neck, and bend him down over the desk. He feels the shiver run down Cross’s body - and he can’t tell if it’s fear or pleasure. He’s sure there’s still something deep in Cross’s mind that’s afraid of how strong he can be; the instinct in all living things that knows a predator when it sees it and says  _ fucking run _ . There’s always tension deep in Cross’s muscles, and maybe even Cross doesn’t know it’s there, but Alex can feel it. He softens his grip slightly, leans down, kisses the nape of Cross’s neck. “Tell me you want this.”

Less an order; more a plea. And Cross isn’t a man who lets pity move him. He’s still for a moment, then, just as Alex starts to worry, he rolls his hips, pushing back against him. “Fuck, Alex. Please.”

Alex buries his face in the crook of Cross’s neck, hands fiddling impatiently until the harness falls to the ground with a thunk and Alex can slip his pants down just far enough, he’s not going to push his luck. He doesn’t have to worry about himself; his body knows what’s required and just kind of does it for him. Sometimes, watching Cross fight, he has to keep an eye on himself in case it does it in public. Cross pushes against the hand pinning him down - not with any real intent, just impatience. Alex can feel his blood pulsing, taste his breath in the air, and it’s not enough.

One of Alex’s many benefits is that he can make himself slippery on command. With a thought, his fingers are slick, and he can slip one into Cross with ease. The captain arches up, breathing hard as Alex teases slowly deeper, and deeper, knowing exactly where to tease, to make Cross start to rock and bite his lip, eyes shut, face intense, his hands curling into fists on the wood. He's trying hard to keep his voice down. As Alex finally stops teasing around that sweet spot and rubs it in big, slow circles, Cross lets out a full, loud groan, catching himself off guard with it - it's already slipping out before he can clap a hand over his mouth. But Alex has done his job too well before - he pulls out as Cross's hips start to jerk, leaving him rocking against nothing, panting, almost  whining "No, wait, Alex- I'm  _ close- _ "

"You think I'd let you off that easy?" Alex rolls his hips a few times, letting Cross feel his cock, because he likes the little squirm of anticipation it always elicits. Carefully he nudges Cross's legs further apart, taking his sweet time just thrusting lazily against him, until Cross really does whine, struggling against Alex's restraining grasp. Alex lets him go, sliding his hand around his neck, up his jaw - pressing two fingers to his lips. Without so much as a flicker of hesitation, Cross opens his mouth. His reward is Alex's hoarse whisper of 'shit', and finally Alex enters him, agonisingly slowly, other hand running down his hip, across his thigh, teasing his aching cock with two fingers up and down his length. He's so desperate to be touched there he almost falls apart. Alex can always tell, and stills just before Cross gets there, buried hilt-deep in him and breathing heavy now. He pulls Cross up slightly, hand firm on his jaw, fingers on his tongue. He's already drooling. Alex's cock twitches at the sight of him, and Cross shudders, rocking back, moaning. _ Fuck me, please fuck me. _ Alex presses his lips to his neck and obliges.

It is  _ very _ fortunate that the table is jammed hard enough against the door that it doesn't make a sound with every pulse of Alex's hips, but that's not to say it's quiet. Contrary to what he said before, Alex is doing the work, listening hard for approaching footsteps and stilling his hips when they pass because frankly, Cross doesn't seem capable of keeping quiet. Alex quickly realises that half the reason  _ is _ the constant pausing - Cross squirms, kicking the floor in desperate frustration, so close,  _ so close _ when Alex stops as someone takes their sweet-ass time going past. Alex laughs breathlessly into his neck; he lets out a broken noise as Alex starts to thrust again. This time, this time - he clenches on Alex until Alex's hips stutter and he groans out "shit, Cross- ah", hand quickening mercifully on his cock, and everything goes out the window, with every breath a rising moan past Alex's fingers still in his mouth, every thrust inside him and every firm slide of Alex's hand on his cock tipping him, tipping him-

He goes rigid, legs shaking, and Alex slips his fingers out and puts his whole hand over Cross's mouth to stifle his cry, a tumbling chorus of 'oh fuck oh fuck Alex fuck Alex  _ Alex'. _ Alex fucks him hard in those last moments to really make Cross sing, make his whole body vibrate with it, and then lets himself go, groaning against Cross's neck as his hips lose their rhythm and he just ruts, lost in it, until he can think again. He smiles as he buries his face in Cross's shoulder, one hand on his back to feel his heavy breaths and just how soft, how lax his body has become. Cross sighs, a last little 'nnh' as Alex pulls out of him and lies on him, kissing across his shoulders. Shifting, insistent, Cross pushes Alex until he steps back enough for Cross to flip over, hands tangling in Alex's hair and pulling him down again to kiss him. His mouth is warm and wet and far too inviting for something with a refractory period like Alex's. Alex rumbles into it, hands running up and down Cross's sides. "Careful, captain," he murmurs against his lips "If they haven't already heard you then they'll definitely hear what I do to you when you're like this." he pulls Cross against his hips, rubbing their cocks together, making Cross gasp at the friction on his still hypersensitive skin. Alex runs his hands down his spread thighs-

The radio on Cross's discarded jacket crackles. " _ Requesting Wiseman team to-" _

" _ Ass _ ." Cross drags a hand down his face as Alex leans away, glowering at the radio. They part, and Cross is still slightly wobbly on his feet as he slides off the desk and pulls his pants back up, his vest down - making a face. No time for a shower and it's going to be annoying him until he gets back. Alex tosses him his jacket.

"You're getting off light today," he watches regretfully as Cross's skin disappears under the uniform.

"It's only nine," is the nonchalant reply, and Alex can't help the little warm rush it gives him.

"So I have your permission to interrupt a vital mission and carry you off?"

Cross flashes him a lopsided smile that makes his mouth go dry.

"Or you stay out of trouble in here for a few hours, and when I get back we really find out who the loud one is."

Alex doesn't have a snappy reply for that, and Cross laughs as he leaves, locking the door behind him.


	2. Save a Horse Ride the Deadliest Virus Known to Mankind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cross knows how to be a power bottom and Alex knows how to be a bastard, and somehow it works out for both parties.

Cross slings a leg over him, sitting heavily on Alex's hips, still flushed, loose-limbed, soft from before. His hair is mussed up at the back and his neck is covered in red marks, most of which his high collar will hide, but there’s one just at the back of his jaw that Alex looks forward to noticing later. Alex’s hands crawl up his thighs, up his sides, feeling the way his muscles go taut as he leans back, watching them stretch and shift under his scarred skin. He rolls his hips, taking Alex by surprise. Not that Alex is going to let it show. He brings his hands back down to squeeze Cross's hips and take over the rhythm, but Cross pulls on his wrists. "Hey," his voice is still ever-so-slightly hoarser than usual. It's had a lot of use recently. "My turn."

Alex tries not to swallow his own tongue, and loosens his hands. Cross pushes them down onto his thighs, saying "no, I don't trust you" although there's a laugh behind it. Alex still feels a little twinge of offence.

"Seriously?"

"I know how you get." it's hard for Alex to pay enough attention to what Cross is saying when he can't take his eyes off his thighs and his belly flexing with his movements "I'd tie you down, if it'd do anything."

"Maybe I'd be nice and play along."

"I'll eat my fucking boots the day you play along."

Alex squeezes his thighs. He's going so  _ slow,  _ which, it turns out, Alex is only so fond of if he's the one setting the pace. The second round is when he speeds up, with Cross already so soft and sensitive from the first and not needing much to get him noisy again. Alex groans as Cross presses down on him harder for a delicious moment. "I can think of better things to put in your mouth- aw fuck-" Cross slides up and off his member, one eyebrow raised, and an apology is already on Alex's lips - but it turns into a breathless stutter as he feels Cross take his cock, line it up, and sink onto it, hot and slick still and sudden. Alex's hands clench as he watches Cross's jaw slacken and hears him fail to stifle a moan. He's glad he didn't make this a bet because he doesn't know how long he can keep from flipping Cross onto his back and hammering him until he forgets how to speak. But he holds off. He twitches his cock deliberately just to make a point, though, and to see Cross shiver. 

Cross starts to rock. It makes Alex's head knock back onto the pillow, mostly from the sheer effort of not jerking his hips up. Cross's breathing turns ragged, his eyes sliding shut and his brow furrowing slightly like he's concentrating; Alex can't help himself taking advantage of it. He runs his thumb up the underside of his cock and get a stuttered shout out of him. "I'm allowed to do this, right?" Alex teases, rubbing small circles just under his head, trying not to look  _ too _ smug as Cross's movements fall slightly out of rhythm, and the pitch of his moans rise. After a few moments he seems almost ready to scrape together a reply - so Alex bucks his hips hard, wraps his hand around Cross's cock, and strokes him firm and fast. Whatever was about to be said becomes a string of expletives just barely keeping themselves as words and not senseless noises, and he loses his pace altogether. Alex starts to fuck up into him hungrily, grunting; his own words almost don't manage to form themselves for his heavy breathing and the building pressure and when he does say them, he almost doesn't notice he's doing it. "C'mon, c'mon, come for me, just for me-"

Whether its his words or just timing Alex doesn't know, but that's when Cross falls apart. An errant lock of white hair flops down over his forehead as his legs clench and shake and he doubles over, babbling out moans that turn into whimpers punctuated with Alex's name, all to the beat of Alex's hips still rocking him. Hands like vices on his hips, Alex fucks him up and down the last few moments to his own climax, groaning and feeling an extra flush when Cross arches as he spills inside him, earning a last breathless, drawn out "fuuuuck".

Cross collapses down onto Alex, face finding the crook of his neck, and is out like a light. Alex rubs the places his gripping fingers will have left marks, and changes his mind; he  _ should _ have made it a bet, because he's pretty sure he just won.


	3. Rooftop Railings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is a little shit wondering just how far he can push the envelope, and learning things about Cross he wasn't expecting to.

Alex is taken off guard by Cross's eager hands sliding under his shirt as they kiss clumsily in the gloom of Manhattan’s nighttime lights below. "I've got a half hour," he whispers against Alex's lips, as if someone might somehow hear them up here. But Alex doesn't ask questions - he pushes Cross back until he hits the wall, lets the kiss go on for a few sloppy, wonderful moments, then turns him around. He hears the breathy 'fuck' Cross lets out as he's pressed against the concrete, feels a thrill straight to his crotch, and decides that today, he’s really going to make the most of this. He's fumbling for the kevlar's zip, entangling with Cross's hands in their rush; the jacket hits the ground with a clunk of the radio, then Alex is yanking up the vest, moaning appreciatively into Cross's shoulder as he runs a hand over his chest, his stomach, the muscles pulled taut as Cross arches his back and pushes his ass back against Alex. Alex is all obliging. He kisses up Cross's neck, slowly undoing the buckles of his harness, letting his hands just graze the growing tent in his pants - deliberately accidental touches to encourage it without giving the barest hint of relief. Cross smothers a groan as Alex rocks his hips a little to make sure Cross can feel his own erection, lovingly crafted into the perfect shape for making Cross absolutely collapse. Too well crafted, sometimes. Alex has to be careful how he wields it if he doesn't want things to be over too soon.

Pants are pushed away just enough to let Alex reach what he wants without leaving Cross stuck tying his bootlaces in an emergency, which Alex kind of wishes he could see, just once. Alex kicks his legs as far apart as the waistband of his pants will let them, and finally gets his hand on his cock, running an open palm up and down his length, slow and hard, drawing his hips into a rhythm. Cross’s hands clench on the wall, nothing to hold onto - they'll be scrabbling before Alex is done.

“Fuck,” Cross breathes as Alex plays with his tip with one, languid, circling finger. Alex half groans, half laughs into Cross’s neck at the feeling of his hips starting to stutter and twist, and puts a hand on his stomach to hold him still. “Shit, Alex-  _ Alex- _ ” a hand reaches back, grabbing the corner of Alex's jacket and pulling until Alex relents, sliding his hand all the way down his shaft and letting Cross fuck into it with a groan of relief. Alex allows his voice to lift a fraction before he holds him still again, and, with a slight repositioning of his hips, pushes his slick cock inside of him.

Another of Alex’s little tricks; if he can make his dick any size he wants, he can get to his favourite bit faster - hips against Cross, lips at his ear, their bodies pressed tight and rocking together - by starting off small and gradually rearranging his mass until Cross can’t think for how thick Alex is inside of him.

He moves slowly. It’s just their heavy breathing and their groans over the distant roar of traffic. Alex wraps an arm around Cross's chest and peppers his neck and shoulder with kisses, teases his cock - his touch too light, or only rubbing him at his base, or running up and down his slit, to get the desperate edge into his voice, and keep it there. 

Finally, there’s that gorgeous, needy moan of “ _ Alex! _ ”, the one that means he can’t take any more, and that he’s reached the point when all attempts at holding onto his dignity have flown out the window.

But they definitely haven’t used up their half hour yet.

“What was that?” Alex whispers breathlessly, letting go of Cross’s member to take his hips in both hands and, pulling almost out of him, gives him a rough jerk back onto a cock that’s bigger than it was a second ago. Cross’s groan breaks upwards in the middle, turning it into a whimper.

“Fuck _fuck_ fuck _-_! Alex-”

“Tell me.” Alex presses his face against Cross’s neck “C’mon, tell me what you want.”

“For you to hurry the fuck  _ up _ ." he pants, trying to move his hips, to get more from Alex’s slow, rolling thrusts, but Alex doesn’t let him.

“You said you have half an hour." Alex laughs "So let's take half an hour."

Cross groans and presses his forehead to the wall as Alex gives him all the right motions, but never quite enough of them. "Can we do this  _ once _ ," he pants "Just  _ once _ without you being an ass?"

"We could, but you wouldn't have as much fun."

"I don't believe that for a fuckinnn _ uhgod _ -"

Alex might call Cross’s attitude hubris if he weren’t so fond of it; if he weren’t so sure that Cross is doing it deliberately. As he adjusts his angle and readjusts the girth of his member, and starts shallow, rapid pumps of his hips, Cross’s words fail and he’s clawing at the wall, voice wavering with the jolting thrusts. Alex measures the growing shake in his thighs and the frantic gasps like it’s a science; he comes to a dead stop. Cross lets out a stream of hoarse curses as he struggles fruitlessly against the stillness. “You were gonna tell me what you want.”

“ _ Please _ ,” all he can do is clench and make Alex inhale sharply, but it doesn’t get him anything “Just-  _ please _ !”

"If you really wanted it,” Alex runs one finger up and down the underside of his cock until he whimpers “You would be saying it.”

Is it just him, or is Cross redder than usual? Alex keeps his hand moving, nudges his hips, just a little, just enough to make sure Cross stays on that edge. He’s so close and Alex knows it, his ragged breath drowning out Alex’s soft, even panting.

After a heady pause, Alex relents slightly, kissing Cross’s cheek and giving him one good stroke, murmuring into his skin “Hey. You okay?”

Cross just about crumples. He smothers his shuddering cries in his own arm as Alex, taken by surprise, has to suddenly start fucking him properly again to make sure it’s not a disappointment of an orgasm - it certainly sounds like a good one, and the fact that Alex is now the only thing stopping Cross from falling over attests to it, too. Alex is still fucking him hard as he comes down from it, and he starts to squirm, one hand gripping Alex’s wrist as he strokes his now sensitive cock.

“You want me to stop?” Alex groans, even though he’s getting close.

“No,” it shakes with the violent shudders wracking Cross’s whole body, making him twist and arch like he can't control himself ”God, don’t- keep going- keep going-!”

Well, Alex is happy to oblige. It takes less than a minute for him to catch up anyway, pressing Cross flat to the wall with the force of his juddering thrusts as he comes. They finally fall still, practically wheezing, and Alex runs his hands in soothing motions up and down Cross’s heaving sides. When he feels like his own legs are solid enough for the both of them, he pulls back, taking Cross with him, arms wrapped around his broad chest. Cross’s head flops back onto his shoulder, his eyes closed. If Alex had to ascribe a word to him, glistening with sweat, red-faced, loose locks of hair falling down over his forehead, it would be ‘divine’.

He kisses his neck gently, petting his stomach and his sides until the captain seems to come back to himself a little, eyes half opening. “Hey.” Alex murmurs, trailing his kisses up to his jaw “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Cross is still breathless, but just about manages to laugh “ _ Yeah _ .”


	4. Someone's About To Make A Noise Complaint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex really does have a thing for secret fucking, but Cross is not really the right person to do it with if you're big on the 'secret' part.

Cross wakes with the mattress sinking as something crawls over him in the dark. He doesn’t panic. Alex has a smell that he would recognise anywhere by now, something unexplainable under the scent of warm leather, and clothes that have been languishing in a closet for a while. 

"What're you doing here?" he mumbles, still too heavy with sleep to do much more than open one eye, which is pointless. The windowless room is black. Warm breath ghosts over his neck, up his jaw, and Alex's body comes a little closer to him on the other side of the sheet.

"Bored," even Alex's whisper has a rumble to it, vibrating through Cross's body as lips find his pulse and mould themselves to it "Thinking about you. You shouldn't leave me alone so long. I almost grabbed you off the street yesterday."

"You were there? You could've lent a hand."

"Hey." he feels Alex's lips pull back and teeth press gently on his throat. His breath catches. "I did you a favour. You know how I _get_ ," Alex's solid body lowers onto him, and a hand slides up his arm to fasten on his wrist "When I _want_ something."

He does know. Alex's tongue leaves a hot, sparking trail up his jaw to his mouth, where the kiss pushes him forcefully back into the pillow, sloppy and wet and- is it just him or is that an awful _lot_ of tongue in his mouth? The sheet is being slid away; the room is cold but Alex is so warm, and dragging a hand up Cross's thigh to hook two fingers over his waistband and yank. There’s the sound of popping stitching. Cross makes a disapproving noise into the kiss as he sleepily shifts his hips to help Alex before anything gets ripped. The clothes make a soft sound as they’re flung across the room, and Cross's legs are knocked apart, Alex’s hips meeting his; heavy, and firm, and with an unambiguous bulge. His free hand moves to rest on Alex's waist-

With care Alex takes his wrist, pins it like his other. The kiss pauses, although he can feel that Alex is hovering close as he takes the opportunity to get some breath back.

He's been on the go near solidly for almost four days at this point; the longest he slept in that time was three hours in a McDonalds yesterday morning while the rest of the Wisemen ate everything in sight. So when hands gently take hold of his hips, he doesn't immediately realise what's wrong with that. They lift him up, his back arching, because his hands are still pinned by-

He blinks, twisting his wrists. Pinned by what definitely feel like Alex's hands. There's the sound of Alex repositioning himself, of his biomass changing, and then the hands - definitely also hands - that are on his hips settle him back down into Alex's lap. He meets warm skin instead of clothing, and the familiar, slick shape of Alex's cock under his ass. There's a pause. Alex's thumbs move in gentle circles that are less of a turn on and more threatening to soothe him to sleep, despite the awkward position. He’s probably passed out in worse.

'Do-" he mumbles "Do you have four hands?"

"Uh huh."

"Oh." is about all he can manage in reply to that. The hands slide down, one taking his cock, squeezing a soft noise from him, the other going further until a wet finger is pushing inside him. He moves his hips into the touch, his exhausted muscles objecting to the work, and yet he couldn’t keep still if he tried. Alex is stroking him, inside and out; slowly, but with a pressure that doesn’t let Cross lull. His heavy breaths turn to moans that get louder- one of his wrists is let go of, and the hand covers his mouth. He clings to Alex’s arm just to have something to hold onto. The weight and warmth of Alex’s body bends close over him, and a wet mouth kisses his collar. The finger inside him _presses,_ and is joined by a second; he clamps his hand over Alex's as if that's going to help further muffle the desperate noises he's making.

"You realise if they heard and worked it out I'd have to take you away with me, right?" Alex whispers into his skin, his hands' movements harder, rougher, hungry "And I could fuck you whenever I liked."

Cross would like for his moans to sound less keening and pathetic but the way Alex's fingers are moving- _god_ , he bucks up helplessly into it and wishes Alex would let him _beg._

"I'd find an empty apartment with a nice bed and I'd fuck you so senseless you couldn't even stand up to leave, so you could scream like you really want to when I make you come, so the only name you'd be able to remember was mine."

His legs clench around Alex's hips and shake, his head swims, dizzy- Alex's fingers press _deep_ and he lets out a muffled cry that finally makes him realise that oh _shit,_ he can barely _breathe_. All the blood (that isn't occupied elsewhere) is running to his head in this position and his nose has never really been as good as it was before he broke it that time, it blocks whenever he's upside down. He tugs at Alex's hand and wonders, faintly, if Alex will notice when he passes out-

It's the sleep deprivation talking. Alex takes moments to read him, to know something's up and pull his hand away. Cross gasps like a marathon runner in the quiet, and a thumb soothes his cheek with gentle strokes.

"You okay?" Alex asks, the authoritative rumble of before replaced with worry.

"Yeah," Cross wheezes "Should've- should've noticed sooner- my bad-"

" _Your bad_ ," Alex snorts "I almost fuckin' smothered you and it's your fault?" small kisses press across Cross's face and down his neck "You're fucking stupid."

"Mm." Cross lifts his freed hands to find Alex's head and run his fingers through his hair "I'm tired. Are you going to fuck me or what?"

"Oh," Alex's laughs "You think almost dying means I'll let you talk back to me like that?" firm hands on Cross's waist lift him and flip him onto his stomach like he weighs nothing. They hitch his hips up, and Alex lies heavy across his back, that other set of hands denting the mattress by his head. He finds one to hold onto as Alex's cock nudges against him. "Remember to breathe this time."

He's doing a lot of it by the time Alex settles fully inside him, panting and gasping and moaning with the little half thrusts, the agonisingly slow progress, kicking out desperately as Alex croons and chuckles above him. Like vices on his hips, Alex's grip stops him getting any good friction from the bed, making his unsmotherable moans worse when his cock just barely rubs against the sheet and flashes hot with it. The pillow is on the floor and the bedsheet is half off the mattress, clenched in Cross's fists as he claws at anything his hands can reach. Alex groans and takes a moment to run a hand down the curve of Cross's spine. "God, you have no idea how good you look like this."

Finally, _finally_ , he starts to really move. Cross presses his mouth against one of Alex's braced forearms, clinging to it, his whole body struggling and desperate. He mumbles a ceaseless string of pleas into Alex's arm as he's taken to the edge and, he saw this coming and it doesn't make it any better, kept there no matter how much he struggles and gasps out 'god please Alex please please I can't I can't _please'_.

One of Alex's hands has slithered under him to grip and stroke his cock and make him see stars in the darkness when their bubble shatters as there's a hesitant knock at the door. They go still, like deer in headlights, trying to smother their panting breath. "Uh, captain?" a muffled voice - is that Jones? - calls "Uhm- uh-… ch-checkup?"

Cross desperately needs to make sure his voice doesn't break when he replies, which is not guaranteed because Alex is _moving_ , his cock twitching right where Cross doesn't want it to right now. Absolutely desperate not to make Wiseman history and have a screaming orgasm in front of one of his men, Cross manages to half whisper, half whimper " _ohgodI'mgonnacomedon'tmakemecomeAlexplease-"_

It's been a second too long. _Checkup_ is their watchword for the nightmares they're all too familiar with, and a non-response means _permission to come wake me up_. He has to say something, that or have Jones walk right in on them-

"I'm fine, Jones."

Cross's surprise is enough to take him off the edge; he turns his head sharply, trying to work out if he just hallucinated that, or if he really did just hear his own voice come out of Alex.

"Sure thing," Jones's footsteps retreat (suspiciously quickly, if Cross was of a mind to notice). Alex smothers a laugh into his shoulder.

"What the fuck? Since when could you do that?"

"I have a _lot_ of your genetic material stored up, I can figure it out. Here. Put your face in the pillow. I'm gonna make you come now."

In the next room over, Jones throws his literal short straw at the lieutenant where she lies in the fetal position on the floor, tears in her eyes and her entire fist stuffed in her mouth to try and muffle her laughter. "You guys are such _assholes._ "

The whole room breaks into desperately concealed howls, faces in pillows and hands clasped across mouths, and Jones goes back to bed, grumbling. It's kind of fortunate, really - they're so busy hiding their own noise that they don't hear the smothered, enraptured cry of Alex's name through the wall.


	5. Know It Seems Like Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end, and this turned more emotional than smutty, so for that I apologise.

Cross has never been into the hospital before. Alex can do a better job of making sure that when he sheds his Wiseman disguise to come and be Dana's brother again, no one is going to catch him at it; so that Cross has risked coming here already makes Alex's biomass twist uneasily. Huge and black-clad and armoured, the captain looks out of place in the morgue's little breakroom; a bit like a tiger in an office. Of course, he's thinking the same thing about Alex. It's subtle, and maybe it's just because Cross has seen Alex at his most formidable, but it's there - the sense of something barely contained by its mundane surroundings.

"We're being shipped back to Detrick tomorrow morning." he doesn't beat about the bush, and although the look on his face, Alex  _ thought _ , had given him warning, somehow this is worse than whatever he was expecting. He swallows, his mouth gone dry.

"Why?” he knows the answer (another six months, that’s what they’re saying, then the first batch of cleared civilians desperate to leave this place behind will be allowed over the bridges - outbreak officially crushed and defeated); he just doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t know what else to say, because he doesn’t want what’s coming next, either. Cross seems to know - he doesn’t bother answering. His expression is more sympathetic than anything else - he’s used to making sacrifices for the sake of necessity. He’s had things and lost things, with far more finality than this.

But the only thing Alex has ever lost is himself, and that’s not the same.

“Here.” he presses something into Alex’s hand. It’s a cellphone. “Last one. Call me when you get out - until then,  _ only  _ for emergencies. Your sister’s still on a list, so when quarantine lifts, don’t try and get her out until  _ all  _ the checkpoints from the bridges are gone.”

The desperate flutter in Alex's heart that says _ I can go with you _ quickly sinks, overtaken by shame. Dana’s machines beep calmly down the hall in her makeshift room. He can’t leave her. Even if he could, he wouldn’t.

“Alex,” Cross closes Alex’s limp fingers on the phone, both his hands around Alex’s “All you have to do is keep low. No heroics, okay?”

“You’re worried about me?” he looks incredulous “You’re the one going back into that nest of fucking vipers, and what the hell am I supposed to do, sit on my hands, wait six months to know if you’re okay? What if they find out about us and shoot you in the fucking head a week in, and I'm sitting here- while they cut you open on a slab somewhere-"

"Hey," Cross's hands squeeze his. He swallows down the rest of his tirade. "It won't be like that. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

He takes a moment; breathes out heavily."Okay." his voice sounds small and cracked "But you'll call me too, right? If… if something goes wrong, and you get enough warning, I don't care if they find out I'm still alive-"

"I will. Anything happens, someone'll call you, and you can come save our asses."

That soothes Alex a bit. If Cross has said he'll do it, he'll do it; Alex huffs, extracts his hands from Cross's to slide his arms around him and press his nose into his shoulder and just breathe him in, in all his warm, solid, comforting bulk. He rubs Alex's back, pressing his knuckles into Alex's spine up and down just right, just the way Alex loves and that makes his shoulders slump from the perpetual hunch he never notices he’s wearing. 

It never lasts as long as he wants it to, though. Cross lets go, hands resting on Alex’s waist. It’s late afternoon. There’s got to be things he needs to do before he ships out-

“Not yet,” Alex murmurs, holding on tighter “You can’t leave on that.”

The sigh he gets in reply is an affectionate one, trailing into a soft laugh. “How would you prefer I leave?".

“With something to remember.” Alex noses into Cross’s collar and kisses his neck, hands finding his harness and pulling their hips flush together. Cross’s hands hover, clearly deliberating if he has the time. Alex, who has never turned his nose up at fighting dirty, runs his mouth up to breathe hotly in Cross’s ear and groan, long and low and rumbling like a growl, as his hands turn firm on the harness.

He can read Cross like an open book; he knows the second he gives in. They fumble for the couch in the corner of the room, feeling their way there as they choose bumping their shins on the coffee table over pulling away from the hungry kiss, Cross’s fingers in Alex’s hair as demanding as Alex’s hands shedding Cross’s armour. They fall onto the couch with Alex in Cross's lap, which isn't where he intended to be but doesn't mind. It’s just fortunate he’s pretty light today; he shed extra for a heli ride he took with the Wisemen, after Key made one too many under-her-breath jokes about what if the chopper couldn’t take off with ‘the chungus’ on board.

He says as much, and it makes Cross laugh, Alex pressing close to feel it vibrate through his broad chest. Arms slung loosely around Cross's neck, he makes him crane his head back for the open, breathless kiss, Alex combing through his hair and melting against him. It won't work, but part of him wonders if he can get Cross to fall asleep after, snatch an extra half hour, maybe, with his head on Cross's chest listening to him breathe, to his heart beat. 

Six months at least. 

If -  _ when _ \- Dana wakes up in that time, and he has to tell her  _ I'm not who you think I am _ , he'll have nowhere to go afterwards but empty old safehouses. No big, solid, soothing presence to sit beside when he's jittery and afraid and can't put words to why.

"I don't want you to go," he murmurs against Cross's lips. Cross slides his arms around Alex's waist and holds him firm.

No one he knows he can please so easily when he feels like every time he speaks he says something or does something that makes normal people look askance at him; ignites a primal fear of  _ not right _ ; outs himself for a second as not one of them.

"I know," Cross takes the chance to get at Alex's neck, his mouth warm and equal parts gentle and insistent. The slightly unnatural stiffness to Alex's hood and shirt collar lessens, to let him follow the curve down to Alex's shoulder. “But you’ll get through it. Come on, you can take a nuke.”

"It’s not the same and you know it.” he traces a scar at the back of Cross’s neck and wishes he had the blueprint, wishes he knew Cross’s body in every detail, just in case-

“Yeah. But my point is, you’re tougher than that.”

Does Cross really not know all the ways he's an anchor? All the ways curling against his back in the dark and pressing an ear between his shoulders to listen to him exist makes the utter fucking chaos of Alex’s crowded almost-brain bearable?

He opens his mouth to admit to it and maybe to impress harder on Cross how much he has to  _ not die _ , how much Alex  _ needs  _ him-

And fails, naturally, he always fails when it comes to translating feelings. He’s made for a hivemind, not a language. The frustration lets itself out in the way he settles himself down heavier in Cross’s lap, rolling his hips and ridding himself of his clothes. Cross lets out a little huff of breath against his collar, fingers tracing patterns down his side, his hip, his thigh. "You never let me do this," he says, voice as soft as his lips are on Alex's skin, and a smile sounding at the edges. Alex puts his nose into his hair.

"You forget to make all those noises I like."

"Hmh. You have to learn how to share."

"I'll think about it." he reaches down, barely able to keep from growling as he has to shove and yank layers aside to free Cross's cock.

"You could do with a bit more patience, too," Cross laughs, and Alex, disgruntled, rubs their cocks hard together to cut his laugh off in a moan.

"I never get the time to be patient."

"Well," Cross takes his chin gently in one hand, guiding their lips together, making the hair stand up all over Alex's body "We'll have to work on that." Alex doesn't reply, preferring to rub up on him until they're both breathing hard into the kiss and refusing to stop, turning it messy, tongues lingering as they break apart to gasp and pounce back on each other. Without a word, Alex kneels up, and takes Cross inside him in one swift move, giving him no warning just to get that surprised groan and the arch of his back, the flutter of his eyelids, the way his jaw drops slightly. Alex comes to a stop, full of him, and can't quite bring himself to move again, to bring it closer to being over. Cross moves his hands up his sides, reassuring, pressing kisses along his jaw.

He's already said it but the words aren't enough; he doesn't know how else to say it, though. "I don't want you to go."

"Alex-"

"I know you have to go but I don't-" six months, what if it's more? What if it's a year? "Tell me we'll be normal someday. Tell me I won't have to give you up ever again," he starts to rock, their foreheads together and faces bumping as Cross's hands clench on his hips and his breath stutters "Tell me we'll get to lie in, we won't have to think about where you have to be next, who's gonna notice- we'll get to be normal- ah- spend all day in bed with you doing nothing but-" his voice cracks up, his eyes want to close but Cross is looking at him like Alex doesn't know that he ever has before "-nothing but- oh  _ fuck _ \- I don't know- just us and nothing to think about-"

" _ Alex, _ " Cross breathes, hand around the back of his neck, hips canting in time with him and making it so good he wants to collapse "I promise. When it's over-" they fall out of rhythm for a moment, bodies yearning to be closer, pressing together for a lingering moment "I love you."

Alex can't hold himself upright any more; he presses his face into the crook of Cross's neck and whimpers out "You're making it harder!"

Cross laughs breathlessly, kissing Alex's ear, his cheek, anything he can reach. "I love you so goddamn much."

"Fuck, Cross-" he  _ hates  _ language, it's like a trickle compared to the flood of feeling he wishes he could share "I don't- I- fucking  _ words _ I love you I adore you I want you forever I-"

It's nice, he finds, to be flipped onto his back and not have to help because he weighs a ton. Cross groans into his neck as Alex's pace, increasingly inadequate as his words took over, is replaced with something that puts an end to their admissions. Alex rips the cushion in seconds and goes back to holding onto Cross, who doesn't object even when Alex knows he'll be leaving marks. Thank god Ragland is helping out upstairs. Between the couch's creaking and their ragged breaths and groans - that particular train of thought disappears as Cross tries to reposition, to push himself more upright, and Alex holds him and babbles for him not to go. He relents at once with gentle kisses and reassurances, and Alex breaks into pieces.

The room is quiet in their panting afterglow, Alex's legs locked around Cross's waist so he can't pull out yet. He doesn't try. He does, after his breath is back a little, start to laugh. "Fucking hell, Alex," his chest shakes pleasantly with it "You just about gave me a fucking heart attack. I tell you I love you and the first thing you say is 'I don't'?"

Alex flushes red. "I just meant-"

"I know, I know," Cross turns soft, kissing the hollow of his throat. After a while longer, Alex's legs still around him, he sighs and pushes himself up, feeling Alex flicker with tension. "Alright, alright. C'mon. If you want to go again, you have to give me a chance."

Alex's taught expression relents, his fingertips on the map of scars over Cross's chest. "You sure?" time hovers over them, silent and pressing. Cross shrugs.

"Who gives a fuck."

They tumble back together, and Alex can't stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening to F&tM's Various Storms & Saints at midnight is conducive only to absolute goop of the cheesiest degree, and the only thing I regret is how many issues I'm probably going to find with this when I go over it tomorrow. Proof reading? Who's she?
> 
> (Also timetravelling meme whoops couldn't resist.)


	6. Not So Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cross takes care of Alex and Alex takes care of Cross, in different ways, but ones they both enjoy (and they're still finding things out about each other).
> 
> My porn without plot seems to have developed a plot, but I feel like the ratio is still overall in the porn's favour.

Three hundred and six.

Alex watches the numbers on the alarm clock turn over to twelve AM.

Three hundred and seven.

It's quiet; Dana's nose whistles softly as she sleeps soundly in the other bed, a very small, curled up lump under the sheets, the enormous burrito he got for her half eaten on the bedside table. She says she's back to normal, but he's sure she still seems smaller than before. Maybe her appetite'll pick up when they start going out. Now that her hair's longer, and now that they've dyed it and given her some clothes she'd never have worn before, they're both feeling pretty confident that, even if there somehow _was_ someone around who _could_ recognise her, they won't.

As for Alex; he gives himself a healthy skin tone, less mad-scientist-locked-himself-away-in-a-windowless-lab pale and sickly; he changes his eye colour (green, even if he can't get it _quite_ right); he adds a fuckload of freckles (that was Dana’s idea); and if they're somewhere especially crowded, and he can't get away with a hood, he goes blond. He's still in a leather jacket most of the time, although he's changed the design. Changing _too_ much is… hard, when he already feels like his grasp on personhood is tenuous. The things he's known the longest aren't _his,_ technically, but they’re close enough that he can pretend.

He doesn't make a sound as he takes one of the room keys and heads outside. The receptionist of the shabby little hotel they're staying at doesn't even look up from her book as he slips out the door. The air is sharp and full of nighttime smells, the kind that makes him itch to move, to run. He holds himself back and just walks, but when he finds a low wall he can sit at without buildings pressing too close, he lets his leg bounce incessantly and it goes some way to soothing him.

The cellphone sits in his open hands, as inert as it has been for three hundred and seven days. He tried not to count. Just like he tried not to sit and stare at the body bags in the morgue, imagining what it would be like to have to wrench them open one by one in a nameless military base somewhere, knowing what he would find, that he didn’t want to find it, that he couldn’t just leave it there.

If his hands are shaking, it’s probably just the jostling of his leg, going at about a mile a minute. He presses the button and holds it to his ear.

The pause. Maybe he should do this _not_ at midnight.

The first ring. Is three hundred and seven days long enough to change your mind about a person?

The second ring. Is three hundred and seven days long enough to crack under the ceaseless press of Blackwatch rhetoric and goose-stepping and brainwashing-

“ _Alex_.”

He’s an idiot and a half. The eager tone of that voice melts him down to his _core_.

“Hey.”

“ _Are you okay?_ ”

“Yeah.” he twists the inside of his pocket around and around his fingers, fighting butterflies in his stomach “We’re out of Manhattan- me and Dana. She’s awake. Are you-?”

“ _I’m fine. Where are you? Do you have a car?"_

“Yeah. We're not far out, I wanted to call you first.”

“ _Good. I have a place you can stay at and I can meet you there - you got the money I left you, right?"_

"Yeah - where the fuck did you get it all?"

" _I do get paid, you realise._ " his tone softens and becomes a laugh for a moment " _Nobody would sign up for this shitshow if they didn't at least pay us."_

"I mean, how'd you just have that much lying around? Banks don't let you take that much out at once."

" _It's all handled internally, seeing as I'm legally dead and all. Anyway, I called in some favours._ _How's your sister?_ "

“She’s good, she’s… tired but she’s getting better. It’s been a few months since she woke up.”

It’s been two hundred and forty one days, but he’s not going to bring up the counting thing.

“ _That’s great._ " there's a pause, one Alex wants to fill with all the things he could say better in person “ _How are you, Alex, really?"_

"I'm okay. Better now. I miss you." 

" _I'll get us an evening or something, I should be there next week, so long as nobody starts another outbreak."_

"Hey, don't look at me."

Another soft laugh, then " _You sure you're okay?"_

It's Alex's turn to huff, amused and almost giddy, lit with relief and heart-deep comfort. "I'm _fine_ . _I_ should be asking _you_ that."

_"I know, but- it's been months since the infected were gone, do you get hungry? And it's not easy on anyone having to watch their own back as much as you have."_

"It's… complicated, but I'm fine, really." he's not been _totally_ abstinent since the last of the hivemind died away.

(Except for that-… doesn't matter, not right now, he'll bring it up when he understands it better himself, he'd only worry Cross unduly now.)

" _Okay, fine. We'll talk more later. You got a way to write this down or can you remember it all?"_

Alex memorises the directions to the safehouse, and wishes he could just stay on the phone all night, but- it's never that easy, they've never been that free.

" _When this is all done,"_ he can almost picture Cross's face, the earnest look he gets " _I promise, I won't leave again."_

He's never felt so incredibly alone and together at the same time. "Please be safe." he breathes. 

" _I will. Be careful, Alex. I'll see you soon._ "

They don't end up meeting in the safehouse (a disused, slightly dusty apartment that, to Alex's disappointment, has no hints of Cross's presence at all, although he checks all the drawers in a fit of restless nervousness) but a hotel a small ways away. Just to be sure. Sitting in the tiny room and sensing, to his relief, that he's the only person on that floor at least, he deliberates between faces. He’s in the old one because it’s comfortable, like pyjamas after work; the new one - 'Beach Babe Alex', as Dana calls it with a laugh - is getting easier to slip into every time he does it but it still feels like a disguise and it's not what Cross will be-

A sound at the door just about sends him through the roof. His biomass is crawling with pent up energy as he rushes to it, not for one second thinking of the myriad dangers that  _ could _ be outside. It just about comes off the hinges in his haste to open it.

Cross has, somehow, darker bags under his eyes than before. But they're still bright, sharp eyes, and the creases at the corners of them deepen the same when he smiles. "  _ Alex _ ." a sigh of relief as Alex wordlessly takes handfuls of his sweater and drags him in. He smells slightly different. The gunpowder and kevlar has been replaced by clean clothes, something distinctly and unpleasantly clinical, and an edge that might be to his smell or the taste of his virus, but it’s too subtle to tell. The black cable knit sweater looks so laughably like his armour with its high collar and ¾ zip that, to be honest, it takes Alex a second to realise this is the first time he's ever seen him in normal clothes.

"Hey," he mumbles out as he's already pressing their lips together, slowly, roughly, savouring the taste and heat and the slide of Cross's tongue. Cross neglects to reply with his arms tight around Alex and a hand up at the back of his head, tugging at his hood which, after a moment, remembers how to separate from his head. He melts softly into the feeling of Cross's fingers running through his hair and the real press of his body, after so long wishing, clutching at pillows and being unable to catch even the half hour naps he used to when there was the soft rhythm of another body next to him.

(He can't fall asleep with Dana because if he rolls over he might crush her. She thinks it's funny, he decidedly doesn't.)

They finally break apart to breathe; it's not like he'd been planning it like this, but he can't help his hands easing up under Cross's clothes, untucking his shirt with slow, deliberate pulls, easing his fingers over that ridge of muscle at his hips that Alex likes so much. He just needs to be closer than clothes can let them be. He belongs next to Cross's skin, melting into him and practically part of him. And Cross doesn't object - just pulls him into another kiss, this one softer, his hands on Alex's neck, thumbs tracing his jaw. 

After three hundred and fourteen days of missing and aching and yearning, there's more that he can say with his hands and lips than with words. He has to ask, though. It's a habit by now. "How long?"

"Two hours." Cross puts their foreheads together, sighing, eyes shut "Better than nothing."

"Better than before," Alex points out as he pulls him back towards the bed "You look tired.”

“Do I?” it seems to genuinely surprise Cross “I shouldn’t, I’m practically on vacation right now.”

“They actually give you that?”

“Not exactly.” Cross huffs a laugh, and doesn’t continue. Alex pauses, Cross’s sweater lifted halfway in his hands, and fixes him with a raised eyebrow. He sighs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Get better at hiding things you don’t wanna tell me. What is it?”

“It’s fine.”

“How are you such a bad liar?”

Cross just smiles at him, and it’s as much the fond murmur of “I missed you” that makes him lose his train of thought for a second, as it is Cross leaning in to slide his mouth down his neck, hand popping the buttons of his shirt one by one to-

A soft thud and a grunt, and Cross is blinking up at him from the bed, tugging at Alex’s hands pinning his wrists. “Nice try.” Alex cocks his head, frowning down at him.

“Oh, come on, it’s nothing-”

“  _ This _ is why I worry about you, you don’t  _ tell _ me when something wrong.”

A silence hangs in the aftermath of the way his voice rose a fraction, but it’s Cross relaxing slightly, giving in. “I’m sorry. It’s not important, We’re just on a round of testing right now, it’s all new shots and physical exams and shit like that. It’s standard. It always comes around, but… I know you don’t like that stuff.”

“  _ Yeah _ I don’t like them pumping you full of weird shit you don’t even know what it is.” Alex grumbles, letting go of Cross’s wrists “You keep saying ‘when this is over’, but how are we gonna get there if you’re addicted to painkillers? Or any of the other stuff they give you?”

There’s an awkward I-was-hoping-you-wouldn’t-think-to-bring-this-up shuffle. “I’m working on it.”

“If we had the lists of what it actually is- I bet I could-”

“ No .” Cross pushes up onto his elbows; his captain’s voice is like a whip-crack when he breaks it out like this. There are enough soldiers in Alex’s head that sometimes he almost snaps to attention when Cross uses it. “Jesus, Alex, you don’t know how hard they’ll come down on you if they find out you’re still alive! I can handle whatever they’ll send after me if I go AWOL but they’ll send the whole goddamn country after you, they’ll throw everything they have at you and they’ll invent new stuff too and I can’t- what goddamn use would I be against that?”

_ How would I protect you? _ He could have just said it but to be fair, it sounds ridiculous. Alex, the death machine that survived a nuke, needing protecting? By a guy he almost killed when he was less than half as powerful as he is now? Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel safe at the thought. Doesn’t mean that when the subconscious parts of him are trying too hard to listen out for hunters or helicopters, it isn’t what makes it a little bit easier to block them out.

He leans down, presses a placating kiss to Cross’s lips. It takes a minute for the tension to bleed out. “You’ll have to make use of me at some point,” he murmurs, trying to make his tone light “You can’t just have a tank and not use it.”

“Yes, I can. I’m not  _ using _ you like a weapon. I don’t give a fuck what you were ‘made’ for. That’s not what you are.”

Stupid idiot bastard man, saying things that make Alex’s insides turn into  _ goop _ knowing full well Alex has never been verbose in his very short life and can’t hope to say anything nearly as good back. So he takes Cross by the belt, hoisting him further up onto the bed, and climbs up between his spread legs and noses and pulls with his teeth at the sweater and shirt beneath, planting kisses as he goes. He can feel Cross’s pulse start to quicken. His hand fiddles with his belt, and in the moment, he forgets - he melts his clothes away, except that one of them stays behind. Cross shifts slightly. The tshirt fits Alex’s broad shoulders pretty well, even if he doesn’t quite fill it out all the way down. From the way the fabric hangs, if anything, it’s used to being worn by someone who’s slightly too much for it. 

“Is this-?”

Alex looks up from where his face is half buried under Cross's sweater, a phenomenally guilty attempt at an innocent expression on his face. Oh, golly, how on earth did one of your shirts get on my body? I guess we’ll never know. Cross laughs as he haphazardly drags it over Alex’s head. Maybe it’s just the novelty of it, but Alex likes that. It makes him wonder if he should wear real clothes more often. “I should’ve fucking known. I only had one left after you tore the other one, how the hell did you get it?”

“You left it in one of the apartments,” Alex mumbles, slightly shame-faced now that he has to admit to it. He busies himself in getting Cross's layers off (This sweater is seriously…  _ cuddly.  _ He makes a note of that.) “A week before, I guess. I just- you know-”

Cross laughs again, softer, hands in Alex’s hair whenever he can reach. “You’re goddamn sweet, you know that?”

Alex couldn’t explain if he tried why that makes it hard to breathe.

He pauses once; as the sweater comes off and he’s running his hands up Cross’s arms, his fingers find the marks. They mar the skin up the undersides of his arms in clusters from his wrists to his elbows, the pinpricks of endless needles piercing again and again until even an inhuman healing factor can’t get rid of them. Some are fresh, one has blossomed a dark bruise in the crook of his arm. They’ve always been there in some capacity, and Alex has seen them coming and going, but never this many new. Cross notices the way Alex’s hands linger. He wordlessly pulls them away, and hooks a leg around Alex's waist to draw their hips together and his mind away from problems Cross can’t fix right now. Alex sinks to it without resistance. He’s ached for this down to his viral core - it’s stopped giving him the impulse to consume any time he gets the need to just be close to Cross, but his instincts still think on their own terms, and sex is as close to two bodies becoming one as the different parts of him can agree on.

It does mean that he has to contend with both Cross and those instincts impatiently telling him to  _ hurry up,  _ but he didn’t make it through those first chaotic days by listening to any old idea thrown his way.

Okay, that’s literally exactly what he did. He’s learned since then.

“Shouldn’t leave marks, I guess,” he says between kisses down the curve of Cross’s neck.

“  _ God _ no. I had to explain one of your fucking handprints once.”

“Where?”

“Hip. Told them it was someone dragging me away from something.”

“Could’ve been worse.” Alex can’t help himself from laughing before he’s even gotten it out, shoulders shaking “I’ve never tried spanking you before.”

“Okay, don’t you fucking- don’t you  _ dare _ -” Cross squirms, fruitlessly against the weight of Alex pressing and pinning him, as Alex slips a hand under his ass just to make him jolt and kick out “I swear to god  **_Mercer_ ** -!” Alex collapses into his shoulder with smothered laughter, and Cross whaps him on the back of the head. “You fucking  _ ass." _

“What, nobody ever pulled you out of trouble by the butt before?”

“You realise the amount of fucking trouble I could get in if they find out I’ve been having sex?”

“What?” Alex, still giggling, remembers that that’s what they’re supposed to be doing and takes their cocks in hand together, sighing comfortably against Cross “I thought the whole don’t ask don’t-”

“No, I mean, anyone. I’m-  _ nh _ \- I’m- infected, chances are I’d kill anyone normal. There’s literally rules against it.” he rolls his hips up into Alex’s gently moving hand. 

“But- wait, when were you infected? How many years?”

“Alright, alright,” Cross shoves him “Aren’t you fucking hilarious.”

“I’m just curious!” Alex noses up against his jaw to hide the smile “But it… I mean, it explains a lot.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know, the first time. I thought I was just really good.”

“Oh, fuck off,” this time it’s a proper shove, strong enough to roll Alex over when he doesn’t resist, still laughing; but Cross’s glower is a fake one as he rolls over on top. "If you're only here to talk shit to me I'll go- "

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Alex pulls him down, kissing him through a smile and running his hands down his sides “I missed you.”

“Act like it.” Cross rocks their bodies together and arches slightly when Alex slides his hand between them.

“You’re gonna regret saying that.”

Before Cross can reply, Alex pushes him upright again, hikes him right into his lap, and lets thin black tendrils snake out and slide over Cross’s thighs. “Wow, okay, this is new,” is the surprisingly blasé reply as they tighten and hold him down tight to Alex’s hips.

“Mhm.” Alex fingers the tip of his cock and makes him exhale an almost-groan, and then he jolts, as something decidedly  _ wriggly _ slips inside of him.

“Okay, that’s weird that’s- weird that’s too-  _ moving- _ ” his voice cants upwards at the end all of a sudden, with a fucking delicious arch of his back and he’s bracing himself on Alex’s thighs just before he topples, trying to squirm, the tendrils holding him still.

“Too much?”

“Oh fu  _ hu _ huuuuck-” thrusting’s nice and all but Alex has always wondered if he could manage to do something close to vibrating.

A shudder ripples all the way up Cross’s body and knocks his head back, his mouth open, crying out shakily “Alex!”.

So yes, Alex  _ can _ vibrate.

“Is it too much?” he asks again, just to be on the safe side and because he’s sure he knows what the answer will be. He actually gets less than he’s expecting. Cross’s noises are utterly incoherent as one hand grabs the tendrils holding him down, but more for support than anything, his twitches and shudders almost knocking him flat. Alex gently pulls him forward so he’s braced on Alex’s chest, hands curled into fists, and Alex can watch his face as he rises toward his peak. When he tries to bite his lip to keep his mouth shut but the moans are stronger and he always ends up open-mouthed, tempting Alex to pull him down and hear him whimper past Alex's tongue on his own. But seeing as they have the space, today Alex leaves him to shout as loudly as he can when he comes and shakes so hard his arms give way and he crumples forwards, gasping and squirming weakly as Alex keeps moving until he's well and truly done.

Ony ones on this floor, sure, but Alex doesn't know about downstairs. Oh well. He can’t really bring himself to care.

The tendrils recede to let Cross flop fully over him, boneless and breathing ragged and nice to hold, when he’s so completely loose like this. Alex gently rolls him onto his side, fits himself in against his back, and strokes his sides and his thighs and kisses the back of his neck until his erratic pulse has evened out a bit.

His lips find, right over Cross’s spine, more needle marks just barely healed. He shuts his eyes and noses through Cross's hair and keeps his voice easy as he asks “Not too much then?”

“Depends what you mean by too much,” Cross pants “If I needed to walk again in a hurry then yeah, too much.”

“Good thing we have two hours then.” he shifts his hips, and nudges his cock up against Cross, making him shiver “‘Cause you’re gonna need the second one just to recover.”

Cross gasps into the sheet as Alex slides gently inside of him, shallow thrusts that ease deeper, inch by inch. Alex’s arm under him takes him gently by the jaw and turns his head, so Alex can watch him come apart again. He can’t take his eyes off every little detail, the ones he remembers and the ones he doesn’t (although there’s far more of the former than the latter), nor can he stop letting his other hand roam over Cross’s body like he has to keep making sure he's real. Three hundred and fourteen days. How did he manage?

Cross is going taught again, one hand on Alex’s wrist to keep his hand down on his cock where the thrusts of Alex’s hips push him into Alex’s hand, almost, almost- so Alex takes his hand away just to heard Cross whine, to see his glazed eyes and blissed-out expression turn desperate and for the chorus of ‘please, Alex, please, I‘m close, please’. Alex whispers ‘not yet’ with his lips against his ear, keeps rocking him, building that beautiful edge-

“God, please, fuck-  _ sir _ , ” it’s so mumbled Alex could’ve missed it if he wasn’t playing attention and  _ ohboy _ . His hips stutter and his cock twitches.

“Fuck, Cross, say that again.” he groans; he isn’t intending it to be quite so much of a growl, but from the way Cross clenches around him it’s not a bad thing.

“Sir-” it’s so quiet and breathless and Alex wants it to be more than that “Please-”

“  _ Scream it _ .” he pushes Cross flat and just fucks him, hard, so the sudden friction of the sheets on his cock gives him what he needs and makes him go rigid, shaking, shouting ‘Alex!’ before Alex grabs his chin and forces his head up and growls right in his ear “No, what I want to hear, say it, scream it-” and there it is, Cross moaning out ‘yes, sir,  _ yes _ sir!’ so loud Alex can't help but groan with him they come.

They sink down onto the bed and don’t say anything for a long time. When Alex is feeling slightly less like jelly, he rubs at the knotted muscles in the small of Cross’s back until Cross finally functions enough to let out a weak moan.

Alex sits up, gently flips Cross onto his back. He looks exactly like someone should when they’ve just been fucked senseless, which is, if anything, even more fuckable than before, loose-limbed and slick and his hair mussed and red from his head to his chest. Alex leans over him to kiss his closed eyes. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Cross sighs out a breathy mumble.

“C’mon. First hour’s not up yet. I told you you were gonna regret what you said.”

His mouth drifts down Cross’s body; it doesn’t take long to get his soldier singing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross: permission to speak sir  
> Alex & Randall simultaneously: permission granted  
> Randall: ....... wait a second-


	7. Everyone Deserves Some Trans Alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self explanatory; worth a mention that I'm using the same terms to refer to trans male genitals as I would similarly shaped female ones. It's a personal preference, as a very content man with a vagina, but I thought I'd warn in case that's something anyone feels strongly about.

Alex barely notices anything when he's this engrossed in a book, and he doesn't even like books that much, just gets over-invested in a topic one of his many consumed minds had a passion for and can't rest until he's researched it to death. The door opening registers somewhere in his head, but not consciously. Nor the voice, at least until a sock tucked into a ball hits him in the face, making him jump. "What?"

Cross laughs quietly, deftly folding a shirt and putting it into a drawer. "You've been there for four hours."

"I'm reading." Alex has already forgotten the sock in his lap, refinding his place on the page.

"I haven't had a full night's sleep for a week because you can't sit still."

Alex just shrugs, distracted. This time, a tshirt lands on his knees.

"When was the last time you changed?"

_"..._ _Recently."_ He protests. Cross lifts an eyebrow.

"Change."

"I'm reading-"

"It takes five seconds. Here." A second sock joins the first. "Those too."

Alex leans awkwardly over the book to keep reading as he pulls off the only real clothes he wears and dons the fresh ones. Shirts smell like Cross and are nice to have hidden under a biomass hoodie; socks are for cold floors (Alex  _ hates _ cold floors).

"You want anything else?"

"I'm good."

"Remember to put pants on before you go near the windows." Cross chuckles. Alex glances briefly down at himself.

"If they recognise me I don't think it makes a difference."

"If someone takes a photo of Zeus with his ass out, it'll be all over the world faster than if you ate the president."

Alex just grunts, sinking back into his reading, the gentle rustle of clothes a soothing background noise. When the mattress sinks, he doesn't pay it any mind. When Cross rests his chin on the top of the book, it's hard to continue.

"Pay attention to me." Cross gives him a shiteating smirk. Alex grumbles.

"That was one time."

"It was pretty cute, though."

It's times like this Alex wishes he'd considered swapping out his superfluous human organs more seriously; all they do is betray him, like the way he feels his face heating up now. "You were ignoring me." he mumbles defensively into the book, Cross's grin widening in the corner of his vision - he stares doggedly at the pages when Cross ducks, wriggles in under his arms, and presses close as he puts his face into the crook of Alex's neck. But the book's at a  _ good bit. _ But Cross's hair is still damp from his shower and has that pleasant clean him smell and the faint hint of generic, unscented soap (because Blackwatch frowns on its operatives "smelling like a fruit basket" apparently) - and his breath is warm on Alex's neck - and so are his lips, pressing under Alex's jaw, and-

"I just got to a good bit," Alex protests weakly. His hyperfixation is struggling; being horny was invented before being smart, and still takes precedence, apparently. His hips want to buck to feel Cross's soft shirt and firm stomach beneath it press harder on his crotch. He really should have worn pants.

"What's it about?"

"What?" How's he supposed to concentrate when Cross's lips are gliding so slowly down, trailing wet, open mouthed kisses over every millimetre of skin to the hollow of his throat.

"What's it about?" Cross repeats, voice dripping with amusement, as he takes Alex's shirt in his teeth and tugs. Alex stares helplessly at the pages, but the words are swimming in front of his eyes and might as well have turned into another language.

Cross noses back up to where he knows makes Alex squirm the most, just under his jaw, his lips chasing every coherent thought right out of Alex's invitingly tilted head. "Uh- it's-"

His breathy laughter heats Alex's already reddening collar as the book sags in one hand and without thinking, the other comes up to run through Cross's hair. Cross settles against him, which can't be that comfortable with his back arched like it is, but it puts their bodies flush against each other - Alex's hips cant up of their own accord, dragging a muffled sigh from him at the pleasant flush of friction.

If anything's hyperfixated anymore it's his nerve endings on Cross's palm dragging slowly up his side, pulling the shirt with it.

"Why'd you make me put it on if you were only gonna take it off again?" Alex murmurs, eyes sliding shut. The book slips from his hand with a crumple while he fails to care. Cross's answer is a smile and a kiss, his tongue on Alex's lips and in Alex's mouth - and Alex is fumbling for his belt. Now that he well and truly has Alex's attention, he shimmies back, hands on Alex's thighs to slide him down the propped up pillows and onto his back. Sometimes it pays to weigh a lot. Alex gets to watch all the muscles in Cross's arms and chest flex, working hard to move Alex's still significant 'not so light he's hungry/not so heavy he's going to break the bed' weight. But it also means he can't squirm into Cross's lap like he wants to and make Cross kiss the living daylights out of him, because he might break Cross's kneecaps, or at the very least snap some ligaments. He hooks a finger in Cross's collar, dragging him down, but Cross ducks his lips and slides to where his shirt has ridden up, kissing across his ribs instead. 

Alex gets a little shiver of anticipation, his legs drawing up a fraction on either side of Cross, closing his eyes as his whole world shrinks down to the sensation trailing down his side. A small noise escapes him when he feels Cross mouth across his hip, following the line of his thigh inwards. He tilts his hips eagerly. First breath, ghosting over his core, then the softest press of lips and he lets out a trembling sigh. It's slow; Alex sinks into the mattress and even the whispering always at the back of his mind goes quiet. Cross kisses him; once, twice, three times, slow and lingering down his slit, a little rush of warm pleasure at every touch drawing the breath from him. The swiping tongue back up makes him moan, his voice hitching at the end as Cross slows, rolling his tongue against his clit hard, then relents with another gentle kiss. Alex keens needily; sometimes he wishes it would be worth weighing a normal human amount to get to ride Cross's face without crushing his skull like a tank dropped from a thousand feet would, but anything even close to that weight would have him too hungry to be around safely, let alone in the mood to fuck. He wriggles and clenches his legs slightly, feeling the low rumble of a laugh against his clit before Cross sucks on him, makes him cant his hips upwards as the pressure builds and he starts to moan with each pulse of it. He kicks the bed, twitching, as it rides over into oversensitive territory and he has to grab Cross's wrists, Cross's hands holding onto his hips, to pull on them and whimper "hhaaaaaah _ shit- _ shit-!" before Cross lets go, his open mouth sliding back down Alex's core. A soft little trembling "oooh" escapes of its own accord; he catches the smile by the way Cross's eyes crinkle, then his tongue is pressing inside him and Alex pushes his head back, reaching up with one arm to cling to the pillow. He runs his fingers through Cross's hair, tracing the stripe without looking - he does it so often he needn't look to find it. He has to be mindful, pay strict attention to keep his strength in check, when he takes a careful fistful of Cross's hair. He doesn't do anything with it, except enjoy the low groan that he can feel on his skin, and it's nice to have something to hold onto as the pace of Cross's tongue working him in long loops picks up. He can't help but roll his hips, can't help but turn his head and press his face into the pillow as his voice rises, until Cross moves slightly, pulling his mouth away, and a hand gently takes Alex's jaw and turns his face up.

"Can't hear you." Cross murmurs, making Alex flush hot all over. He whines as Cross sinks back down again, with intent this time - he makes Alex squirm, makes him let go of his hair for fear of forgetting himself, both hands gripping the headboard and at one point sending the long-forgotten book flying with a flailing leg as the pleasure on his clit is so sharp it makes him spasm. The metal bars of the headboard start to bend but he's so close, just a bit more - his moan hitches when everything stops, but only for a moment. Cross is over him, his lips glistening as Alex drags him down into a kiss that's broken by Alex crashing into his climax on Cross's fingers and his mouth sliding down his jaw.

He twitches to a breathless end, arms locked around Cross's shoulders, still moaning as Cross kisses down his neck and his thumb traces the line of Alex's thigh. Soft and feeling like jelly, he pushes until Cross rolls onto his back, so Alex can sprawl across his chest and get his breath back before Cross remembers all the important things he should be doing instead of spending the next two hours in bed.


	8. Vussy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody ever said Alex had to have people genitals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been in a horrible funk lately, and when that happens I churn out bad smut without proofreading any of it. Here, take it.

Alex changed positions for the umpteenth time since the light had gone out, and Cross rolled over, flinging an arm across the virus, pressing his face to the back of Alex's neck. It stilled him just long enough for Cross to be on the brink of sleep again - then the mattress was moving and Alex was twisting around to face him. He didn't bother opening his eyes in the dark, just pulled Alex's head down against his chest. "What's the matter?"

Alex shifted. One of his hands was on Cross's hip, a finger running under his waistband.  _ Ah _ .

"Can it wait?"

"Mmh. I don't know. I  _ want- _ " his breath was warm on Cross's collar, then soft lips were moulding themselves to the hollow of his throat "Just a quick one?"

"I'm tired as hell, Alex," the lips opened against him in a whine "Is this a thing with you? You get weird at night."

"Only some nights."

"Enough to keep me awake." he sighed with a smile, but he was sliding his hands down Alex's body to find his hips already twitching, nuzzling between Alex's head and the pillow to get at his neck without having to crane his own. Alex let out a soft keen as Cross's fingers slid inwards to find his hard cock practically dripping with slick. "Hey, don't get it all over the bed." He pushed Alex until he rolled onto his back.

"Please," Alex canted his hips needily, holding onto Cross's arm "Mm. Please touch me.”

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Cross laughed quietly, tucking himself against Alex's side, settling himself comfortably where it wasn't much effort to rub a thumb back down Alex's abdomen and over his cock. Alex squirmed, his breath quivering at the long, lazy strokes of Cross's fingers, the pause and the firm swirl of his thumb just under the head that turned it to mewling. Cross's hand, sliding back down to stroke him properly, found his fingers descending into something warm, wet, and squirming. "That kind of night, huh?" He murmured against Alex's neck, letting the slippery tendrils cling and paw at his hand, rubbing the clusters that slipped between his thumb and forefinger in their constant wriggling. Whatever they were, exactly, Alex certainly liked them touched.

_ "Fuck-"  _ Alex broke into a whine, tentacles trying to squirm themselves erratically into Cross's palm when he gathered a handful of them and stroked them, as best he could - some would always flail loose in their excitement, and every few strokes he had to regather them as they clung to his fingers and up his wrist. He could feel the soft suckers that ran in random clusters down their lengths, but they were behaving today, and not grabbing him at every pass. He paused to take one and rub it between his fingers base to tip - his hand was soaking at this point, and Alex clenched up, back arching, his low voice squeaking as his whimpers rose to a pitch he couldn't reach. Cross searched around, but there was only the thick mass of tentacles now, the dick that had existed previously melted into something more naturally  _ Alex, _ so he made a guess as to what configuration Alex had going on today and sank his fingers right down to the densely packed tentacles' roots. Alex's legs inched open. His curls tickled Cross's closed eyelids as he made soft noises against Alex's neck, kissing and sighing sleepily, his fingers finding the small opening that was sometimes there, which like a sucker itself moved and pulled his fingers in.

Every so often the absolute strange absurdity of this kind of thing would hit Cross like a train; when he thought he was going to be doing one thing and then found himself deep in something else entirely. But he was a man who liked a challenge. There was certainly a sense of accomplishment in looking down at some bewilderingly alien genitals with no idea what to do with them, and still making Alex come by the end of the night.

"I have somewhere to be in the morning." He murmured against Alex's vibrating throat while he worked two fingers deeper into whatever hole this could be classed as, and felt the soft, slick walls undulate with tiny tendrils that swirled and stroked him back. He'd been tired enough to simply provide thus far, but it would be a significantly more celibate man than him that didn't find themself reacting to  _ that _ sensation.

"I'm close," Alex panted, lifting his hips off the bed to the gliding rub of Cross's fingers inside him "Fuck, I'm really close, it can be quick," his hand squeezed in between their pressed bodies to palm Cross's growing erection unhelpfully and earn a hard huff of breath into his ear, one that made him quiver "I'll make it  _ really  _ quick-"

Cross didn't object to Alex rolling onto his side, a moan of disappointment escaping as Cross's fingers slipped free of him, and fumbled to rid him of his pants. Cross grunted as the eager exterior tendrils grabbed for him and aligned their bodies, the suckers leaving sharp little flashes of pleasure across sensitive skin as they drew him in. One of Alex's legs hooked over his hip; an arm went around his neck; their foreheads bumped as they both breathed hard in the first slide together. It was Cross's turn to gasp "Oh, _ fuck,"  _ as he felt the pulse of Alex's stroking walls rippling against him, his hips grinding involuntarily against Alex's. Alex keened for it. He started to move first, desperate for the friction, his panting mouth fastening on Cross's with muffled, needy noises. It was an awkward position to get any kind of leverage in, their hips kept falling out of rhythm as they moved - Cross tried to shuffle only to get grabbed by tentacles unwilling to let him go that slid around his thighs and held on, suckers kissing. One of these days someone was going to see his perfectly round bruises in odd places and he didn't know what excuse he'd use.

He was unfortunately close, and by Alex's whines this wasn't enough. He pushed himself up on one elbow - Alex had one hand hanging off the back of his neck as if afraid he'd leave. He bent his head to catch the inside of Alex's wrist in a kiss. "Here. Move over." Soft, Alex gave under his hands, leaning back to let Cross manoeuvre as he wanted. He sat upright - so much for sleep - and hooked one of Alex's legs over his shoulder. The bed creaked under Alex's tightening grip on the bars of the headboard. A hand on Alex's stomach to steady him, Cross slid back inside, the tendrils making short work of it in the dark. He could just make out Alex's back arching, body taut, turning his face into the mattress to moan.

Cross ran his hand down to the clustering, squirming tendrils, turning Alex's moan into a whimper.

He could get so sensitive when he was having his little episodes. Cross rolled his hips slowly, breath shuddering out of him at the caress of hundreds of tiny stroking, sucking tendrils, and said "Alex?"

"Yeah?" Alex wheezed, sounding totally desperate.

"Look at me."

He saw the gleam of Alex's eyes catching the light that slipped through the drawn curtains, glinting like humans' didn't.

"Good boy."

All the breath squeaked out of Alex in a shiver Cross felt pass right through him, and he murmured it again as he got a firm hold on Alex's hips and fucked him absolutely senseless.


	9. Dirty Talk (Of A Sort)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goofballs being goofs and nobody fucks but it's still lewd, ft. trans Cross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lov me some trans Cross, he'll show up again at some point.

"Squishy."

"Fuck  _ off,"  _ Cross put one foot on Alex's arm and shoved him, Alex rocking more out of habit than the shove having the actual force to move him. The crossword page of the paper in his hands had lain forgotten for a few minutes now, but he remembered to click the pen shut.

"Cunnie."

_ "No, _ what the- that's not real. You're making half of these up."

"How many years were you in the military?"

"Concerned with  _ other things." _ Cross snorted.

"Growler."

"Fuck  _ off!" _ Cross lunged to slap him with the report he was holding, both of them bubbling into laughter as Alex failed to duck far enough out of reach.

"Vaginé?"

"Two stars."

"Out of five?"

"You can't put a stupid accent on it and act like that makes it better."

"Offensive. Pussy."

"That's- lewd."

_ "Lewd?"  _ Alex laughed disbelievingly "You called me a crawling cocksucking parasite."

"That was a while ago," Cross replied with nonchalance, sinking down into the arm of the sofa and stretching his legs out into Alex's lap. "I didn't call you it in the bedroom."

"Hm. Isn't lewd the point, anyway?"

"Too much of a good thing."

"I dunno." Alex looked thoughtfully at the wall "I think it sounds like what it is. I wanna lick your pussy."

"What, now?" Cross clearly meant it jokingly, but Alex pushed his legs apart and slid a hand up the inside of his thigh, fingertips pressing into the seam of his hip. He felt the little jump as Cross's pulse changed.

"I want to put my mouth on your pussy and lick it until you come."

Cross shifted, other leg drawing up, a pink tinge already blushing his cheeks. "Disgusting." He almost mumbled.

"I think it tastes good." Alex's hand crept closer, ring finger tracing the seam of Cross's pants with a little pressure. 

"The  _ word. _ There isn't a good word for it."

"There aren't good words for any genitals, they all sound dumb."

"I don't know, cock sounds good."

"You didn't like cunt."

"Cunt sounds… angry. You think I have an angry vagina?"

Alex laughed, watching his hand as he slid it up so his thumb could press harder and in little circles, Cross's chest hitching noiselessly, his legs inching wider. "That's why pussy fits, it sounds soft. It sounds like it wants me to make it feel good."

"Fair." Cross laughed, a little breathlessly.

"Cock  _ does _ sound angry."

"Not as much. It's fun to have in your mouth.  _ Cock. _ "

Alex's eyes flickered to watch his mouth as he said it slowly, lingering on the sound. The shape it made him take to say it was open-mouthed, his tongue pushing forward eagerly as a wet gleam behind his teeth.

Alex bit his lip, and Cross smiled. "Sounds better."

"Someone'll have to compromise."

"So I need to convince you?" The file Cross had been holding crumpled on the floor as he sat up, leaning over to catch Alex' mouth in a soft kiss, his hand sliding between Alex's legs. "Mmh. I can do that."


	10. Cross Will Suck On Literally Anything As Long As It's Genitals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Alex with funky gonads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're reading this on a phone so it looks like there's more than like five lines lmao. Again, been feeling crap, and sometimes you just gotta write one paragraph of smuts and move on aye? Gets the brain working.

When he licks them, they wind around his tongue and pull him in, Alex's voice breaking into a whine as Cross presses the two fingers, buried up to his knuckles in whatever this warm, soft hole hiding beneath the twin tentacles can be classed as, up to find that little ridged place where the tentacles currently fucking his mouth probably have nerves rooted, and where firm fingers make Alex fall to pieces. His face pressing Alex's hips down, his fingers stroking hard up, Alex quivers helplessly in the middle, struggling not to move, his hands clenched white-knuckled in the sheets. The colour flushing his cheeks is more towards purple than the red one would expect from someone so pale. His low voice breaks on an octave he can't hit when Cross tilts his head and gets his tongue under both tendrils, when he wraps his hand around Alex's side as if to hold him in place, which he can't, but Alex likes to be held. He's pretty sure Alex is close - the tendrils are pulsing, and he's clenching, whispering Cross's name over and over again, one blending into another. Cross makes a low noise, pulls back a bit, and gets his thumb in at the base of the tentacles, just below them, where a firm circling as he lets them out of his mouth and sucks up their sides-

Alex's voice wavers all over the place and Cross's name becomes unintelligible; he smiles against the flailing tendrils, stroking still until Alex's writhing turns sharp and jerky.


	11. Obligatory Sex Pollen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's pheromones and fucking and tentadick what more could you want? One of the shorter pieces, alas.

Cross makes a noise in Alex's ear, pressing close against his back,  _ meaningfully _ close, so Alex can feel the bulge against his ass and make a surprised face. Cross's hands slip up under his shirt, a finger toying with his waistband while the other hand slides up his stomach. Alex doesn't  _ object, _ not at all, but he thought Cross had opinions on unprofessionalism. "What are you doing?" He asks, voice low, even as he pushes his ass back against Cross with a pleasant little flush at the hand running over his body. Even a whisper can carry in a big hollow building like this, he can hear the Wisemen playing a card game with some marines against a far wall.

"Fuck," Cross groans into his jaw, kissing it slightly breathlessly and like he can't stop himself even to speak "You're doing the thing again, fuck, Alex,"

Oh. He hadn't even noticed. "Shit, sorry-" he fumbles through his insides for that one organ, the one that quietly generates itself every so often when he isn't looking. It's too late, of course, but he'd better stop the stream of pheromones now. Cross's thumb over his waistband pushes it down. "How bad is it?"

_ "Bad,"  _ Cross growls, sending a little shiver through Alex. He sucks on the curve of Alex's neck. Alex bites his lip to smother a moan. "Right-now-bad."

"There's people-"

"Truck." Cross pushes him towards the big canvas-covered troop carrier type sitting just in front of them. He's getting to the stage when it's hard to make coherent sentences. Alex pulls himself up inside without a second thought.

Cross is on him again, fumbling eagerly at his hips as he makes Alex tip his head back so he can get at his throat, mouthing down to his collar and nosing under his shirt. Alex bites his lip, hips canting into Cross's hand cupping his crotch and squeezing. Cross gets Alex's back against the wall into the truck's cab, knocks his legs apart enough to stand between them, and kisses him; hungry is an understatement, he's starving for it, Alex catches a glimpse of his green eyes engulfed by swollen pupils and can smell the way his virus is going haywire in his brain. Oops. Alex must have been letting off pheromones for a while.

Cross is supposed to  _ tell him _ when he gets a raging erection out of the blue so he can put a stop to it, not wait until it's driven him to throw caution to the wind. Unless, of course, he's feeling like a walk on the wild side. The require-an-IV-for-serious-dehydration-afterwards kind of wild side. "When did I start-?" Alex asks, even as he angles his hips into Cross grinding against him, making a soft, happy noise around Cross's tongue cutting him off. Cross tries to reply about three times, pulling away just to delve back in again for more rampant kisses. 

"Hour ago." He manages at last, as he's undoing Alex's jeans, yanking on them when they don't immediately unzip. Alex's breath catches and he hitches one leg up Cross's waist.

"You didn't say anything."

Cross gets right up in his ear, hand gripping and hitching that leg up further, rocking their bodies in a pleasantly teasing rhythm. "You've been good lately." He rumbles, breathing a chuckle that turns more toward growl when Alex's whole body bows up against him, pressing his lips to Alex's skin. "Mmh. Good boy for me."

Alex can't get his pants down fast enough. Cross's hands find assistance in the form of a long, slippery appendage that pushes past clothes to press eagerly into his palm; he rubs its slightly bumpy surface with a thumb, and Alex gasps, hips canting into it Another one takes Cross by surprise when it slides out under the first to rub against his crotch, Alex has to smile at the full-throated groan it gets out of him, even as he puts a hand across Cross's mouth. "Maybe we should go out the back-"

Cross is beyond speaking, and definitely beyond common sense. He's urgently fumbling his belt and harness, the tendril beating his hand to the prize one his fly is down. Their mouths pant hot into each other as Alex's appendages pull Cross's cock free of his clothes and wind around it, bringing their bodies tight together, undulating and pulsing with intent. Alex clings to Cross's broad shoulders, while they clumsily kiss and let go to pant over and over again, Cross groaning into Alex's mouth, hands roaming. He cups the side of Alex's neck and strokes the hair at his temple with a thumb, he strokes with his knuckles Alex's ribs up and down. Between them Alex's tentacles are dripping, squeezing and rubbing with a kind of uncoordinated desperation that keeps Cross from finding a rhythm, keeps him breathless, makes the moans come out unbidden. His voice rises as he ruts against Alex harder, Alex pulls his face down into his shoulder to muffle him there. He sucks on the curve of Alex's neck and then, as he comes, bites. It doesn't hurt, he couldn't even break the skin if he tried, but Alex's hand becomes a fist in his hair and he gabbles out a stream of curses, his tendrils in spasm. He rides it out in a beautiful high that only gets better with the way Cross wraps his arms around him in a crushing embrace. Only barely out the other side of it, his jelly legs comply when Cross guides him down to the floor, and there are those dark, blown out eyes again, looking down at him, Cross's open mouth panting and his tongue gleaming behind his teeth. He opens Alex's legs, kisses one raised knee, and sinks his face down between them with a rumble of delight.


	12. Spaghetti Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amorphous-pile-of-tentacles-Alex still treats his husband right, and by that I mean spitroasting him. Another short one.

Alex, amorphous, a tangled mass of squirming tendrils that drags Cross into its centre and it's not that the limbs are holding him down, but there's so many of them and they're so desperate for him that they twine around anything they can reach, stripping clothes off him and stroking every inch of him. It's pretty overwhelming the first time - what does he do other than lie there and hold onto any slippery appendage that squirms into his hands, and shake, and  _ sob _ with overwrought pleasure at the squirming, slithering, undulating tendrils all over his cock and inside him and in his mouth and the suckers like kisses across his chest, across his hips- legs hiked up in strong limbs spreading him open to be just  _ taken- _

But despite barely being able to form a sentence by the end of it, he has sharp enough eyes to notice that there are a couple tendrils that don't taper smoothly, they give way to asymmetrically pointed tips that drip enough of something slippery to fill a bucket, so he's ready the next time to see what would happen if he pulled one up to his mouth and sucked on that tip-

He's clamped onto so hard he has to laugh, in a groan, tendrils clenching around him and shivering as he smiles and sucks it into his mouth as far as it dares to go. There's no better way, it turns out, of stopping him from making too much noise than wedging a tentacle dick so far down his throat he can't use his voice box.

It's a bit much, because it looks like he dropped an industrial size tub of lube on his bed and himself by the end of the whole thing - it's such a pain in the ass to clean up - but that's never at the forefront of his mind when he's grinding up on thick, quivering tentacles winding around each other and rubbing themselves against him and wrapping around his hips to drag him down onto whichever wins the jackpot and gets to fuck him so deep he sees stars.


End file.
